


Kind Ruler, Strong Daughter

by TranscientNight



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Child Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Graphic Description, Grooming, Intersex Tora Ziyal, Minor Original Character(s), Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TranscientNight/pseuds/TranscientNight
Summary: It was good, in a way, that the labour camp had robbed her of any frame of reference for normalcy. She hadn’t been sexually abused either, as some of the ‘workers’ had grown protective of her – as far as Ziyal knew, they’d returned to their own families and didn’t wish to keep any contact with her. Skrain Dukat smiled to himself. Ziyal was his, his only, the only one he had, and he would have her in such ways that no man would ever compare. Never would his own blood turn away from him ever again.— Dukat and Ziyal, or a narcissist father grooming his daughter. (not Dukat-apologetic).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a Dukat-apologetic fic, nor a child abuse-apologetic fic, etc. This is only a rendition of how I perceive the relation between Dukat and Ziyal in the series.  
> Not seeking to hurt/offend anyone so please, Don't Like Don't Read ouo
> 
> In this setting, Ziyal is 13 (because that's the age Kira mentions in Indiscretion, not specifying if Ziyal was 13 at the time of the crash or is 13 at the time of the episode, and that prepubescent-looking girl sure did not look to be 19, and the script of Return to Glory says she's suddenly 18 within one year of time??? so fuck that shit -- I go by the looks).

#  A family of two

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came the voice in her back, startling her.

He had that smile on his face as she turned away from the window. In a few days only, Ziyal had already learned that this was a smile that could never be stolen from him. No matter what happened, good or bad, her father knew to stretch his lips in satisfaction. ...As good Cardassians were expected to do, for the sake of representation. And he was… a good Cardassian, so far, at least to her.

“It’s beautiful, yes,” she chose to answer the question, despite a creeping feeling that the news weren’t good – in labour camp, reading other people’s body language had been a skill necessary to her survival, after all. “There’s not as much nature here as on Bajor, but… the architecture is fascinating,” she argumentated a bit awkwardly.

“You know, Ziyal,” he came closer, regal in his dark civilian getup, “I was  _ only  _ musing to myself aloud that I have the most beautiful daughter in all of Cardassia,” he laid a fond look on her, along with a hand on her shoulder. There was something wet in his dark eyes. Emotion.

“What of-” she started, but he held her a bit firmer and laid a finger on her lips:

“-They’re not your sisters anymore, and you are my only daughter and my only child,” he said quite simply, unmoved. “Yes, I can read the surprise in your eyes,” he continued grandly, “but this is Cardassia, and… it appears that my… family…” his words became more hesitant and he eventually smacked his lips close for a moment. 

##  ~ * ~

_ “How can you- how DARED you do this, Skrain!?”  _ his mother had screamed, when they were alone at last. She was shaking in rage, pacing around the living room to try and steam off feelings that couldn’t be controlled entirely.  _ “I’ve put up with a lot in this family, oh, I have!”  _ she glared at him, forbidding him to speak with a raised fist,  _ “I’ve known about your foolish entertainment of alien comfort women for a long time, but that you’d  _ **_sire_ ** _! And keep that  _ **_bastard thing_ ** _ around, as if it were a real child! And now you  _ **_recognized her as your own_ ** _!”  _ she stood, livid and panting in complete dismay.

_ “Mother…” _ Skrain tried to appease her, but she would have none of it.

_ “How can you do this to your children! Your  _ **_real_ ** _ children!” _

_ “Mother, they’re  _ **_all_ ** _ real!” _ he argued and she gasped.

She stumbled backwards in shock, resting herself against the furniture on which stood the family photos. Then suddenly, she grabbed one of the photo frames and shoved it at his face, forcing him to look at the photo of the most sweet-looking child that Skrain Dukat was at age ten.

_ “Look at him, Skrain! Look at my son! What have you done to my son!?” _ she cried and hit his neck scales with the frame’s edge.

It hurt and Skrain’s eyes went wide. She hit him again, with her fist this time, in the guts, and she slapped him across the face, several times – he let her do at first, then tried to calm her by holding her, but she wouldn’t let him touch her, and the words she screamed at him in that moment made the man’s blood turn cold with dreadful disbelief.

##  ~ * ~

“Let’s just say they had to protect themselves. It was a good and strategical choice for them to disassociate us from the family,” he explained, caressing his daughter’s lips with that finger before removing it and walking the two away from the room. “It’s fine. The Dukat family name remains mine by blood right, and my military records, my position and legate title will keep us safe. At this point, there’s  _ nothing _ to worry about,” he assured.

Yet, she could feel that he was lying. He was tense. And sad.

“Can I do something for you, father?” she asked, caressing the hand on her shoulder and looking up at him.

He took a deep breath, holding it for a few steps before releasing it and passing his hand over her back.

“Trust in me, Ziyal,” he finally answered. “You and I, we only have each other now, so we must trust in each other.”

She had a feeling that those words could have been criticized a bit, in a way or another, but she didn’t know how to phrase that, nor did she want to upset him any further, so she just nodded.

“I’ll always trust in you, father. I’ll always love you and be there for you,” she reassured him.

He smiled some more, chuckling silently.

“That’s very good, Ziyal,” he nodded too and crossed his arms in his back, straightening up as if he could finally breathe and hold himself better now.

“You know what I really love about you?” he asked, looking at her in adoration.

“What is it?” she smiled more shyly.

“That anticipation you have for every contact we share,” he answered and bent to lay a soft kiss on her chufa. “Despite all you went through, you never fear that I could ever hurt you,” he nuzzled the gentle, rounded shape.

“It’s because you’re never threatening,” she answered on automatic, because she wasn’t entirely sure what he was going on about, except that he was sad, and sad people sometimes said strange things.

“No, no, no,” he chuckled and kissed her again, “it’s because I could never, ever do you any harm, Ziyal,” he corrected and leaned some more so he could look at her, eye to eye. “You’re my daughter and I love you. I could never hurt you,” he smiled through his simple explanation, and she smiled back, because it was surely what was expected and she wanted him to feel better.

“And I would never hurt you either,” she promised a bit naively. It seemed like an appropriate answer. Also, it was probably kind of true. Why would she hurt him anyway?

There was a spark of intelligence in his eyes, but it soon hid away.

“Let’s go,” he just nodded.

He might have lost his family, he still had a lot to look forward too. He’d only need to keep a closer look on it. Or, on her, presently.

##  * * *

They had to leave the Dukat family house the next day. Ziyal was a bit anxious at first, as it seemed like the stability she’d touched, if only for a week, was falling apart. But she tried to trust in her father like he told her to, and her trust was rewarded as the two of them entered a luxurious fully-furnished flat in Paldar. There was even a beautiful view over the city, with large windows facing the sun at its warmest hours.

The teen girl couldn’t help but purr and stretch in delight as she whirled through the sunrays, wrapping herself in the heat.

“I thought you would like that,” her father smiled. “There’s a sauna too. I think you’ll like it – it was, after all, very hot on that planet, where you were…” he mentioned.

“It was,” she nodded. “What’s a sauna?”

“You don’t remember?” he startled from surprise, coming closer at once.

She froze, hurrying through her memories.

“I- I just. It’s the word,” she tried to apologize.

“Ah! Yes, of course,” he shook his head and squatted down, all nice and smile again as he caressed her face. “You were only little back then… Well, I guess we’ll just need new memories to test out that vocabulary then,” he decided. “You’re really very beautiful,” he complimented again, a bit out of the blue, observing her. Marveling at her.

“You’re beautiful too,” she returned the compliment and he started to laugh joyfully.

“I’m  _ handsome _ ,” he corrected. “Beautiful is a word for women, beautiful women like you,” he explained. “That’s how we say in proper Kardasi, because men and women are meant to complete each other. And that’s why I know we’re going to make such a good pair, you and I. Don’t you agree?”

She smiled shyly for answer.

“Yes,” he translated. “I’m very glad that you trust me so much, Ziyal. I know that I’m quite fierce in looks, and there have been many people who feared me… But whenever I lay my eyes on you, my hands on you-” he said and cupped her face with both hands, slowly sliding them down her small neckscales, shoulders and the shape of her body, “-I see no fear in you, I feel no fear in you. You welcome my presence, you welcome my touches…” he set his hands on her hips and caressed her hip bones with his thumb, “You welcome all I have to give you, all I do to you, and  _ that gives me life _ .”

“That’s good,” was all she found to answer. She meant it, although she felt like her words were still inadequate. So, to mean it better, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close as he hugged her too.

“There, there…” he lulled her a bit, rubbing her back for a while.

His hand stopped on her buttcheeks, something innocent, she thought. She didn’t think anything bad of it. He caressed her there a bit, and it was only comforting. He kissed her lips, and it was only tender.

“You’re a very good girl, Ziyal… You make me very proud,” he assured her.

It was good, in a way, that the labour camp had robbed her of any frame of reference for normalcy. She hadn’t been sexually abused either, as some of the ‘workers’ had grown protective of her – as far as Ziyal knew, they’d returned to their own families and didn’t wish to keep any contact with her. Skrain Dukat smiled to himself. Ziyal was his, his only, the only one he had, and he would have her in such ways that no man would ever compare. Never would his own blood turn away from him ever again.

“Together, we’re going to be very happy,” he promised with another soft kiss on her lips.

They shared sweet moments, played games together, went out to do some shopping together, eat in fancy restaurants, and when they came home at last, Ziyal was especially exhausted by all the mental stimulation the day had been. They undressed, hugged and cuddled in bed, and it was a matter of minutes before the child fell asleep, loved against her father’s strong body. She too was strong, Dukat marveled as he caressed her passed-out form with tactile fingers. She was thin, but the muscles were there, grown by necessity.

“Worry not, sweetscale…” he murmured, “from now on, I’ll dictate the necessities governing your shapes, and you’ll know I’m a kind ruler,” he smiled warmly and kissed her hair, inhaling its soft fragrance.


	2. Social services

#  Social services

Two days later, they had a visitor, and it wasn’t exactly the best choice of company, should Dukat be honest about it. The man sitting in front of him was social services. He had refined features and an elegant neck inherited through his father ...who so happened to be one of Skrain’s brothers. Or side-brother, rather, since Kelan had joined out of the Dukat family, and into the Kerat family. As such, Sleen Kerat wasn’t really Skrain’s nephew in the eye of law, and there was no conflict of interest between them.

“What do you mean, I need a female referent?” Dukat squinted and winced in offense.

“You had Ziyal notated upon arrival in Lakat,” Sleen calmly explained. “She was legally recognized by the State as a citizen of Cardassia, and the law states that all Cardassian children and young adults are entitled to parentage by a male and a female, until the Age of Joining, which is nineteen. Since you are male, you need to provide a female role model.”

“This is preposterous!” Dukat snorted a single burst of laughter, clapping his hands on the table and leaning back in hilarity, although he was greatly unamused. In a second, he was back to serious, staring down at his side-nephew. “I will not entrust her to anyone else but myself; _I_ _am_ her only family,” he stabed the table with a meaningful finger.

“Of course, but for your own sake, you should still appoint a female-”

“-And why!?” Dukat cut off. “I mean! She’s only  _ half- _ Cardassian! Then providing  _ half _ as many referents as you need should be enough, right!? She had a Bajoran mother, and Bajorans aren’t worth anything in the eyes of law, true? So why bother?” he argued.

It was Sleen’s turn to snort in bemusement.

“I’m not sure that would be a popular argument with her,” he cared to point toward the room where Ziyal was calmly drawing. “Listen, you need a housekeeper, right? Then take a female one and appoint her as female referent. She just needs to exist around Ziyal, and we can rule the matter,  _ although _ I would like you to consider the long-term benefits of providing female company to your child: if Ziyal lacks that frame of reference, it might become harder for her to successfully become a woman.”

“What are you babbling on about with that?” Dukat was instantly offended, “She’s already a woman!”

“Biologically… she  _ does _ possess enough female reproductive organs to qualify her as a woman,” Sleen held onto his PADD, “But to  _ be _ a woman is more… It’s more elaborate, as a gender role, and Ziyal has been away from Cardassia for so long…” he carefully argued. “In that camp…” he winced, “that’s not an environment that’s favorable to the development of femalehood, you understand? What happened to her, all that harm… She needs to be cared for, so she can learn… to be a proper woman.”

“And you think I can’t teach that myself?” Dukat crossed his arms, eyes darkened by aggravation. “You think  _ I _ ,  _ Skrain Dukat _ , wouldn’t know what a proper woman is made of? Do you even know how many women I’ve been with? And I have  _ taste _ , too,” he argued. “If anything, I believe I’m more fit than anyone else in Cardassia to teach my daughter how to behave like a lady.”

Sleen pressed his lips together in a tight smile.

“Very interesting statement, considering your family thinks that civilian males are women too…” he couldn’t help but nag.

“Oh, but you heard the news? I’m not related to them anymore!” Dukat’s eyes did sting a bit. “Now, if you’re done insulting me and my former family…”

“That, I’m done with, but please…” Sleen sighed and softened, laying an open hand across the table, “You’re my side-uncle. I’d rather see well and happy, and same for her too. She’s my side-cousin, after all. That’s why I care. We may not be family by law, but blood is stronger than everything.”

The military was all but disarmed by those words.

“You  _ do _ care,” he concluded at last, after scanning the man for any sign of lies.

“Of course. It’s not just my job; it’s in our blood, right? There’s a caring strike in the Dukat bloodline, and I can very much see that it’s strong in you. You cared for all those Bajorans more than anyone else, you’ve always cared for your men…” the social worker smiled and shook his head. “Of course, you care for your daughter, of course, you’re going to be a protective father. It’s in you, and I expected nothing less than this when I stepped in here,” he flattered him, because he knew that was the key to Skrain Dukat’s ears and heart. “I know you’ll do good. But just cover your back,” he pointed a finger at the other’s chest. “Get a female housekeeper, write her as female referent, let her be around the kid… Because I’d hate it if someone tried to cause you and her harm by using the lack of female referrent to take her away from you,” he warned, and he could see by Dukat’s serious face that his words had made it through this time.

“Thank you, Sleen,” the military finally nodded. “I’ll do that.”

And so they went onto discussing the details of that arrangement. Skrain had some questions about the modalities under which his child might receive sexual education, considering her being half-Bajoran, and Sleen answered those as fluidly as the rest. It was nothing abnormal in Cardassia to talk about those things. Offspring had to be ensured, and even if Ziyal wasn’t fertile at the moment, due in part to malnutrition, there was still hope that she might be a lucky woman, one day.

“How were you educated?” Sleen asked in turn. “There are different approaches…” he gestured and Dukat nodded.

“Before the Age of Emergence, it was my uncle who explained to me the male bodily function,” the military narrated. “Then, when I was eleven, my father took me to see a comfort woman, for the educational purpose of procreational sex. It was during a holiday period,” he recalled amusedly. “From then on, I had access to the comfort women at Dekaris, although they were, of course, a reward to strive for, and I might have entertained some female students too…” he grinned in recognition.

“How disorderly,” Sleen chastized him jokingly. “At any rate, the use of comfort women for sexual education is what the State currently recommends as best alternative. Inviting notated children to witness their parents having procreational sex has fallen a bit out of fashion.”

“Ah, yes… I did witness my uncle and my aunt at it a few times,” Dukat nodded.

“When was that?”

“Does it matter?” he turned a bit defensive.

“I’m bound by secrecy, and if anything unlawful happened, considering that you’re adult and responsible for yourself, I’m not going to go prosecute anyone. If you want to sue someone, that’s your decision, not mine,” Sleen held up his hands. “I’m only asking in the interest of background information, and what’s said now is just between us.”

“Feels almost like a premature shri-tal,” Dukat snorted. “Well, it was before the Age of Emergence. I might have been eight or nine?” he shrugged, keeping vague although the memories were still crisp. “They allowed me to help a little, for the sake of education,” he looked away. “Does that have any importance?”

“Sometimes, it does,” Sleen answered shallowly at first. “Sexual education given too early can cause damage to the body and to the mind, if done improperly. Like, it would be ill-advised for an adult male to penetrate a child, or to force a child into sexual care they don’t welcome,” he explained.

“I believe I quite welcomed those things. Now, are the questions over? I’d rather talk about Ziyal. Or go eat something, if I should be honest.”

“Ah, I also get annoyed when I’m hungry,” Sleen chuckled. “Well, then, I guess we can leave that topic. As far as I can see, you turned out a fine man yourself, caring, responsible, admired by those serving under you… And Ziyal is thirteen already. Late with puberty, but according to the Notator, it’s normal given her circumstances… So, there’s no reason to be worried about anything!”

“Good! Then you won’t need to record any of that conversation in your file,” Dukat brightly approved, clapping his hands and getting up already. “Do you have time for a civil lunch or do you have to scamper back to your duties already?” he raised an eyeridge at his side-nephew. “Social services…” he grinned. “You’re entertaining how many women, currently?”

“Two, but it’s not all entertainment, Dukat,” Sleen got up with pinched lips. “It’s mostly raising the kids, and that is… hard work…” he rounded his eyes in contemplation a bit.

“But you  _ do _ entertain the women,” the military maintained with a pointed look.

“...If necessary, yes,” Sleen rasped. “I’m very professional.”

“And you sexually educate the children, then?” Dukat was merciless with the payback questions.

“That isn’t usually necessary. Now, I hope you’ll forgive me if I skip your kind offer for a lunch, but I indeed do have some duties to attend,” Sleen gave him a warning look.

“Ah, well, so be it,” Dukat sighed elegantly. “I hope you hold me in no contempt; I was merely asking, out of interest for your profession, dear nephew.”

“Of course, dear uncle,” Sleen kept it at that. “State’s peace be with you.”

“Always,” Dukat smirked as he walked the young man to the door.

“Social workers…” he sneered and shook his head once Sleen was gone, “give it to those indiscreet bastards to ask indiscreet questions,” he chuckled and looked at the room where laid the fruit of his own indiscretion. Ziyal. The thought of her made him warm inside, and he walked in to find her still drawing – patterns were what layered the paper.

She looked up at him and smiled, and he came over to pick her and hold her in his strong arms.

“Ah, Ziyal…” he hummed and kissed her on the cheek, then on the lips. He looked at her and he felt like doing more to her, but he refrained. “Should we have lunch?” he asked instead. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ravenous…”

“Does that mean hungry?” she checked before replying: “Then I’m ravenous too!”

And so they went to the restaurant again. Ziyal liked those places. There were other people to see, and most often, they didn’t care to look at her enough that they’d notice she wasn’t fully-Cardassian. Sometimes there were other children, and a part of her wanted to try and meet them, but she wasn’t sure how to interact with them. So she stayed close to her father. It was true that they only had one another. But it was fine.

She loved her father.


	3. Strength in a small girl

#  Strength in a small girl

Dukat wasn’t most fond of museums but he could become, whenever necessary. Mondanities were sometimes held in cultural places, and he was accustomed to pretending that he greatly appreciated art, as any other Cardassian should, even if really, sometimes he wondered if everybody wasn’t just pretending to be in awe in front of abstract art, which was quite trendy. Dukat didn’t like abstract art, even if he could appreciate the shapes or the colors sometimes.

“Eh, I don’t really get that one,” he admitted to Ziyal as they strolled through Ladrak park in Tarlak to watch the monuments doting it.

The one they’d stopped in front of was some kind of weird shape, like a halfassed coupola supported by equally halfassed pillars, thin and twiggy. All of it was covered in rich gold and bronze and copper and enamels. Dukat thought it to be a bit offensive to the eye. Kind of a waste of resources, and for what? To celebrate the Hakrem-Bamal ruling of the Detapa Council, just a century ago?

“I think…” Ziyal raised her eyes from her PADD and the historical commentary on it, “I think it’s rather daring.”

“That,  _ it is _ ,” Dukat drawled, although his opinion of ‘daring’ currently wasn’t much positive.

“I think it’s my favorite one so far!” Ziyal giggled and her father made an astounded face.

“And why is that so? I mean, it’s so poorly done,” he gestured at the thing, “and those materials would have better served a more talented artist to create something… more eloquent,” he grimaced.

“But it’s exactly the point!” Ziyal laughed joyfully. “You’re so bright, father, but sometimes you don’t see it, do you?” she dared tease in a most soft voice that made the man melt a bit.

“Then explain to me, Ziyal,” he crossed his arms behind his back, waiting for the lecture.

“What I read is that Hakrem and Bamal were the last of their dynasties to sit in the Detapa Council, even though they were very influential members, due to their… vesala,” she licked her lips. “They spent a lot of money to make wonderful parties and celebrations, but they didn’t really make a lot of new laws… So,” she pointed at the sculpture, “I suppose you could say that it was very dashing on the outside, but rather weak in structure.”

“And you figured that out on your own?” Dukat was a bit stumped.

“When I was in the camp, there wasn’t much to do aside from work… But Mala and Torek were artists, and they found ways to do art. They’d etch things in the walls, but it was difficult to do anything figurative with those techniques – I tried too – so they’d do abstract things instead. It was also safer, because the Breen didn’t like it so much that people drew. Except sometimes,” she tilted her head to the side a bit. “What happened to Mala and Torek?” she finally asked.

“They were returned to their families, of course,” Dukat answered.

“But they were friends,” Ziyal pointed. “They wanted to stay together. They can’t be together if Mala is on Bajor and Torek on Cardassia, can they?”

Dukat didn’t have an answer to that, so he just kept tight-lipped and walked them further down the alley bordered by flowers and more graceful little sculptures of shiny metal and glass. Ziyal knew that her father wasn’t very fond of talking of the people she’d spent her life with during her detention, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. So she asked just that, a bit bluntly as well.

He was taken aback again.

“You… you have to understand, Ziyal, that it’s… so difficult for me to have missed those precious years of life with you… and to know that I wasn’t the one to be there for you…” he told in a voice full of regrets and guilt.

“I’m sorry, father,” she apologized almost on automatic.

“Ziyal… I’m the one who’s sorry,” he sighed and comfortingly caressed her shoulder.

A woman just happened to pass by with her child at that moment, saw the gesture and sent him a look of unease, but he didn’t care about the inappropriate proximity in this open setting. Ziyal noticed the interaction, and noticed the way the woman and the child’s gazes landed on her nose too. As did Dukat, and he squeezed her even a bit closer, bringing a bit more warmth and validation in his daughter’s belly.

The stroll ended in a teahouse. Ziyal dangled her legs a bit as she sat at the table, nervously observing other children again, still wishing she could mingle with them. But they were a bit scary. She’d been around adults for so long, and she wasn’t sure how to read children anymore. They were impredicable. Adults meanwhile, were often judgemental, or plain afraid to address her. Some pretended they didn’t see the ridges on her nose, which was sometimes  _ almost _ offensive, but Ziyal didn’t mind so long as they were kind, and those usually were.

“A voka pastry and spiced maja milk for Your young Dukat,” said the waitress, who was one such kind soul, “and a hevrit toast accompanied with black Kanar for Your handsome Dukat,” she flattered the man, which got her instant approval from him. “I remain at your orderly disposition, should you need anything more,” she bowed politely before removing herself.

Dukat’s eyes followed her and the line of her back, tracing the generous shapes of her plump hips. She was probably married that one, and a mother too, he mused. Then looked at Ziyal, smiling. His smile faltered a little when he noticed she was looking down at her plate rather than at him.

“Is something the matter, Ziyal?”

“No,” she glanced up at him. “I was… just thinking… What am I going to become in Cardassia, father? People don’t want to think of Bajor anymore here, and those ridges on my nose…” she shared her worries.

What a shame of a mood to go with the good food and drinks.

“What would  _ you _ want to become?” the father asked instead.

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about this society… It’s difficult to imagine things.”

“Hm… It’ll be easier once you’ve taken the tests of aptitude,” he reckoned. It was always a bit difficult for Dukat to think of an occupation for his daughters since they were bound to become mothers anyway. Although, Ziyal didn’t really have what it took to become one, at the time being.

“Father,” the young girl raised her voice again, “That Major Kira who helped you rescue us, who was she, really? She was very kind…”

“Ah… Yes, she’s a very kind person,” Dukat sighed, his smile turning a bit sad and longing. “She doesn’t like me so much, and I don’t blame her for that. We used to be enemies, in a way…” He paused, looking at Ziyal. She seemed curious for details, so he continued: “She was a member of the Bajoran resistance,” he revealed. “She killed many Cardassians during my time as Prefect of Terok Nor, and before that already, I believe… Many of those people were innocent. Their sole crime was to be Cardassians, and on Bajor. I do wish things had gone otherwise… I wish there could have been a peaceful existence between our two peoples. It would have been of greater benefit for all. No need to waste so many lives,” he nodded thoughtfully. “When I was made Prefect of Terok Nor, it was only during the last ten years of our presence on Bajor. We’d been there for decades already, and Bajorans were already harassing us with terrorist attacks. I  _ tried _ to appease them, but they saw it as weakness on our behalf, and became all the more foolhardy,” he pinched his lips together. “They had to be repressed. If only my predecessors…” he sighed but didn’t finish that sentence.

“Was the Major nice to me just because I’m half-Bajoran and not fully-Cardassian?” Ziyal dared ask the question bothering her.

“Oh, no… You’re a child and Bajorans believe that life is sacred and that children have no flaws. They even go around adopting Cardassian kids whose family they slaughtered,” he showed a bit of disapproval.

“Would she have hated me if I’d been an adult then?”

The military didn’t answer at once, thinking about it while taking a slice of his toast, observing the shiny white ribbons of fatty fish meat.

“No,” he eventually answered. “She’s kind at heart… She thrives to see the good in people, and there is so much goodness in you, Ziyal,” he softened.

“But there’s goodness in you too,” she argued.

“Yes, there is,” he reckoned, “but it’s difficult for her, because she doesn’t want to like me… because she doesn’t want to forgive me. And that pains me more than anything else,” he admitted.

There was a moment of silence only disturbed by munching and gulping, along with glasses being moved around a little.

“I forgive you, father,” Ziyal finally said, looking at him in the eye.

“But do you know what it is you’re forgiving?” he asked.

“Yes. I was there too. I don’t remember a lot, but… I’ve been in that labour camp, and the way the Breen treated us… I think. I think I can understand how the Bajorans must have felt for you… How we felt for the Breen… I don’t know why the Breen did that to us, so it’s harder to forgive them. But I know why you did what you did, and I forgive you,” she reached for his hand, holding it and rubbing its hide with determination and compassion.

Dukat’s eyes turned wetter. She’d taken him by surprise again. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound that left his throat was wet and pathetic.

He braced himself.

“You’re a wonderful young woman, Ziyal,” he finally managed to say with a voice still a bit mangled by her words. “You’re so strong…”

“I’m your daughter. And mom’s daughter too,” she answered. “She was strong too.”

“Yes, she was…” he closed his eyes over her memory and his hand over Ziyal’s. “My strong women…”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome^^


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